


Will It Ever End?

by stevesnosebump



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Captain America doesn’t exist is what I’m saying, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, you ever just wanna kiss your bro?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevesnosebump/pseuds/stevesnosebump
Summary: “I’ll never forgive you if you die.”Bucky goes to war. Steve is scared and in love. Captain America doesn’t exist. Author uses way too many em dashes.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	Will It Ever End?

**Author's Note:**

> my first stucky fic! This was very nerve-wracking. I’ve read quite a few fics with this concept and I love it very much for some reason. Hopefully I did it justice!  
> I hope you enjoy it!

Steve scowled at his reflection in the mirror. His nose was bleeding and a black ring was forming around his left eye. He could taste the familiar tang of blood in his mouth, too, from where the large fist had made harsh contact. 

Bucky swore under his breath as he ran a washcloth under the cold tap water to help clean Steve up. 

“I’ve got it, Buck,” Steve mumbled as he reached for the washcloth.

“Hush,” Bucky scolded as he gently touched the washcloth to the blood running down Steve’s nose. “Why do you always get yourself into trouble? Can’t even leave you alone for an hour. Starting to think I need to hire a sitter for you.” 

“I’m not a baby.” 

“I know you’re not. You’re just awful at keeping yourself out of trouble.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and let out a huff as Bucky continued to fuss over him. Steve getting into fights was such a common occurrence, he didn’t understand why Bucky even bothered anymore. Why worry about cleaning him up and helping him heal when they both knew the stubborn blond would get into another fight soon? 

Bucky put the washcloth down and leaned back so he could get a good look at Steve’s face. He sucked in a sharp breath and mumbled, “Those bruises won’t look too pretty tomorrow.” 

“The guy was being an asshole. I couldn’t help myself.” 

“I know, Steve,” he cupped Steve’s chin in a hand and gently turned his face so he could examine it again, “I know. I guess it could be worse,” he dropped his hand from Steve’s chin and walked out of the bathroom. 

And just like that, Steve was alone. He stared at the doorway Bucky had just walked out of. He hadn’t expected Bucky to walk away, and he was beginning to regret not allowing Bucky to baby him. 

The news about the war was making him nervous enough to hate every second that Bucky was out of his sight. He felt the discomfort in that moment, too, even though he knew that Bucky was still in the apartment.

“Buck?” Steve held his breath as he heard Bucky’s footsteps coming closer. 

“Yeah?” Bucky stood just outside of the bathroom, leaning his head in so he could see what Steve needed. 

“Need help cleaning up. It hurts.” 

It wasn’t exactly a lie—it did hurt. He didn’t really need Bucky’s help, though, and Bucky knew it, too. But Bucky still happily obliged and seized the opportunity to protect Steve. Just like he always did.

——  
“Buck?” 

“Hmm?”

It was just after sunrise, and Steve sat on the fire escape, sketching the street and the people walking along the sidewalk. Bucky had already scolded him for sitting in the cold when he was already sick enough, but Steve has never been known for his great listening skills. 

“You ever wonder about all those people out there?” 

“Huh?” Bucky stepped out onto the fire escape and stood behind Steve, trying to find out what Steve was seeing that would make him ask the question. 

Steve shrugged, “I don’t know. Sometimes I see people walking down the street and it just...makes me think. There are so many people out there and they’re all in completely different places in life,” as Steve spoke, he continued working on his sketch, almost as if he was hardly aware of the fact he was speaking out loud or even thinking about anything at all. 

“Right,” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and pondered Steve’s thought process. He stared at the back of Steve’s head, where Steve had missed a spot while fixing his hair that morning. 

“Let’s go out tonight. I’ve got two dames I’ve been talking to. One for me, one for you. How’s that sound?” 

Steve frowned, eyeing the sketchbook in his hands, “A double date? I don’t know...”

“Bonnie’s a real beaut, Steve. You’d be kicking yourself if you didn’t come with.” 

“I’ll be kicking myself when I’m embarrassed by a dame turning me down for the millionth time.” 

Bucky sighed and looked out at the sun’s morning rays slowly strengthening. Steve isn’t usually up this early, doesn’t wake in time to watch Bucky slip away to work. He wonders how he woke so early this morning.

“If she turns you down she’s a fool.” 

“If she turns me down, I’m the fool for thinking I ever had a chance.” 

“Steve,” Bucky sighed and ushered his friend back inside their cozy apartment, closing the window behind them, “don’t think like that. Maybe you’ll have a good time and surprise yourself! Don’t let a few bad experiences get you down.” 

Steve, clutching his sketchbook and pencil, bit his lip and took a seat on the couch. He assessed Bucky—messy bed hair, light stubble growing on his face, still standing in front of the window with his hands on his hips—and nodded, mumbling an “Ok, I’ll try,” which was enough to make Bucky clap his hands together and hoot in excitement. 

——  
The double date went exactly as Steve had expected. Both girls were clearly infatuated with Bucky—Steve was really just there so his “date,” Bonnie, could compete with her friend for Bucky’s affections. Typical. 

“Hey, cheer up,” Bucky elbowed Steve before throwing an arm around him. 

It was late at night, and the two of them, having dropped the girls off at their homes, were walking back to their apartment. 

Steve grunted in response. He was angry and bitter. No woman ever wanted him the way they wanted Bucky. They took one look at him—his height, his thin body, his obvious ailments—and decided that they didn’t even need to get to know him. Bucky, on the other hand, had a date lined up with nearly every dame in Brooklyn. He was charming, handsome, and fit. Steve felt anger boiling in his blood, the same surge of anger he’d felt as he sat alone and watched Bucky dance with his date and—when she pouted and batted her eyelashes up at him—Steve’s date as well. 

“I told you it wouldn’t go well. I said I didn’t wanna go with you. But you dragged me along anyway and look what happened. The same exact thing I was afraid of,” he walked at a distance from Bucky, keeping his back to him the entire time. He was angrier than he’d ever been before—he wasn’t even this angry the day before when he got in a fight with a man much larger and stronger than him. He couldn’t identify what was making him feel so angry. Something changed in him as he watched Bucky on the dance floor. He’d seen it a million times before, and felt that familiar twinge in his heart a billion times before, but he had never seen or felt it as vividly as he had that night. 

“Stevie—“

“No! Go find her and dance with her again if you want to. I don’t care. I’m going home.” 

“But you can’t leave me!” 

Steve stopped in place and furiously spun around so he was facing Bucky, “And why’s that?” 

“I’ll be gone tomorrow. This is our last night.” 

Steve blinked up at him, trying to process what he was being told, “Last night..?”

“I got my orders. The 107th. I’m shipping out to England tomorrow morning.” 

“You never told me.” 

Bucky shrugged, “Didn’t wanna ruin our time together.” 

“Are you serious? You should’ve told me sooner! You’re not giving me enough time to say goodbye!” 

Bucky reached out and grabbed Steve’s shoulder, a grimace shifting onto his face, “Don’t think of it as a goodbye. We’ll see each other again. Soon.” 

Using the hand on Steve’s shoulder, Bucky turned Steve around and threw his arm over his shoulders, tucking Steve into the warmth of his body. Steve clenched his teeth and kept his left hand balled into a fist, but he allowed Bucky to hold him close as they walked home together. 

“It isn’t fair. I wanna go, too, if you have to,” Steve mumbled as their apartment complex came into view. 

“I know. But I’d rather have you at home, angry but safe from danger, than at the front lines.” 

Steve huffed in defiance but didn’t argue. He just waited as Bucky unlocked their door and imagined what life without Bucky would look like. He’d known Bucky his entire life—every single day of his life he could remember had included Bucky in some capacity—and now, he had to go on without him—for months, years, or maybe even forever. 

Moving on autopilot, Steve walked in, shut the door behind him, and sat on their couch. He blinked up at Bucky, who, after hanging his coat up, had followed Steve and was now standing in front of the couch, waiting for Steve to speak, or yell, or cry. 

“Can you sit down?” 

Bucky nodded and sat next to Steve on the couch, keeping his body facing toward Steve so it was clear he was paying attention. Steve cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He took his coat off and tossed it next to him, where it softly fell from the couch to the floor. 

“I appreciate that you didn’t want me to be upset, but I wish you would’ve told me sooner. Now I feel like I’m out of time and I’m scared, Buck. You can act as happy-go-lucky as you want, but I think we both know how ugly this war is.” 

“I know it’s ugly. And I know this’ll be hard. But you know what, Steve? At the end of it, I’ll be coming right back home to you. I might have one less leg, or maybe my face will be all scarred, or maybe I’ll lose my hope and never get it back. But I’ll be here. In Brooklyn, in this cramped apartment, sitting right next to you. I’ll fight every damn Nazi on this earth myself just to get back to you.”

“And Connie.” 

“Who?” 

“You forgot her name? You looked pretty in love with her not even an hour ago.” 

“Oh.”  
Bucky thought back to the woman he’d danced with most of the night. Truthfully, he had forgotten her name. He barely even knew she was there even when he was holding her in his arms. 

“Right. But, point is, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Yes, this war will be ugly, but no, you won’t lose me. I’ll stay by your side as long as you want me.” 

Steve nodded, tears welling in his eyes. With a slightly trembling mouth, he asked, “‘Til the end of the line?” 

“‘Til the end of the line,” Bucky confirmed, with a wide grin despite the tears struggling not to fall down his cheeks. 

——  
“I’ll never forgive you if you die.” 

“I think that’ll be the last of my worries. But I’ll keep that in mind.” 

They didn’t know how to say goodbye. In all the years they’d known each other, they’d never left one another’s side for too long. They choked on the words “goodbye” and “I love you” that were trying to crawl out of their throats. So much had been left unsaid for so many years, but even now, when it was more important than ever, they couldn’t say what they really meant to. 

They were pressed against each other at the dock, Steve’s frail body wrapped in Bucky’s arms. It felt natural to hold each other in the same way all the couples amongst them were holding each other. A man made eye contact with Bucky—a disgusted look on his face, and an ugly word forming on his lips—and, after realizing the hug had gone on for too long and they were holding each other too tightly, Bucky gently let go of Steve and moved back. 

“This war will take so many things, but it’ll never take me away from you. Not for long. Remember that.” 

“I will,” Steve felt a little embarrassed, openly crying when he was surrounded by hundreds of people. But the prospect of losing Bucky made him forget to be fully ashamed. 

Bucky nodded, satisfied with the “there is no doubt in my mind that I will see you again soon” route that the two of them decided to take rather than the “this might be goodbye forever” route that many of the people around them were taking. He picked his bags up off the ground and prepared himself to weave through the mass of people in order to board the damn boat and get this war over with already. 

Before Bucky could leave, Steve grabbed his arm and shouted a weak, “Wait!” 

Bucky turned, and found himself looking down at a mess of a man—Steve’s face was completely streaked with tears, and his nose was starting to run. 

“I love you. I’m scared and I wish I hadn’t waited so long to say it. But I love you.” 

Bucky stepped closer to Steve, wishing they could share a private, intimate moment but knowing he couldn’t get too close or be too obvious. 

“I love you. That’s why I’m winning this war for you. For us. And I’ll be right back in just a few months.” 

Bucky’s voice didn’t quiver once. There wasn’t even the slightest hint in his voice that revealed his true feelings of fear and sadness. He always kept himself together for Steve, refused to allow Steve to see him falter, and that moment was no exception. He didn’t want Steve to know that he was afraid that Steve’s body would give up and die while Bucky was off in Europe. He prayed that Steve couldn’t see the fear he felt in his heart of being peppered by bullets and dying a nasty, brutal death. He didn’t want Steve to see him vulnerable. He wanted to be strong for him. 

Bucky turned again—silently cursing himself for not being brave enough to kiss him in the middle of the crowd and face the consequences—and somberly boarded the boat, allowing his body to function on autopilot. 

He didn’t know if he would ever see Steve’s face again. Maybe he should’ve stayed a while longer, held Steve together and kissed him and told him they’d go out on a proper date once he came home, damn the consequences and damn the girl he’d danced with the other night. But he didn’t. And he just had to pray that everything would be okay.

——  
Steve couldn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned in their shared bed, not used to Bucky’s side being empty. He could still see the crinkle of the sheets that Bucky’s body had created the night before. He felt uneasy knowing that Bucky was en route to England while Steve occupied their shared bed like some lonely housewife. 

He felt completely helpless. What was he meant to do while Bucky went off to war like all honorable men do? Mope around the apartment because he was afraid of being alone? 

His frail body could never withstand the rigorousness of the army. He knew that for a fact—he’d tried time after time to enlist, but was always turned down. He could barely withstand Brooklyn winters—what was he meant to do for the United States Army? 

He didn’t want to focus on that. He knew Bucky would hate to see him tearing himself apart like this. He’d told Bucky he loved him, and Bucky had said it back—that had to count for something. He just hoped that Bucky understood what Steve was telling him. This wasn’t a gentle love, the type you feel when you make a new friend and know you want to be connected forever, platonically. No, this was a fiery love, one that made Steve’s lungs ache every time he took a breath. He loved Bucky more than he thought possible. It was a bit of a scary thought, but it was the truth. And he knew he’d never be able to convey the intensity of it out loud, in a way that makes sense, but he hoped that those three little words would be enough. 

He knew what he wanted to do to pass the time until Bucky came back—however long that may be. He had already agreed to a part-time job at the local bookshop, and on top of that, he knew he could earn a good chunk of pocket money by selling some of his drawings. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He just had to get used to having the apartment to himself.  
——  
Bucky was already going through hell. He was exhausted and couldn’t stop worrying about Steve. For a second, he’d toyed with the idea of deserting his post and running all the way back home. 

They wrote letters back and forth so frequently, every time he was seen opening or writing a letter, the soldiers he now considered his friends teased him relentlessly. 

“Your little lady sure does miss you,” one of them teased, looking over Bucky’s shoulder to see the picture Steve had drawn—it was a relatively simple sketch of Bucky in his uniform, but it was undeniably accurate. 

“Hush, stop being so nosy,” Bucky snapped, a light blush rising up to his cheeks. 

“Alright, alright! You’re a lucky son of a bitch, though. You know that?”

“Yeah,” Bucky smiled, admiring the drawing, “I sure am.” 

He was already counting down the days until he could see Steve again. He wanted to hold him and kiss him senseless—everything he should have done the day he left. 

——  
Six months had passed all the same. They sent each other letters frequently and felt the ache in their hearts growing stronger with each passing day. But the day had finally arrived, and the war was won. 

Steve stood on the dock, surrounded by women and children awaiting their loved ones, just as he had the day that Bucky left. 

He was nervous. He didn’t know what to expect. Bucky hadn’t mentioned any major injuries in any of his letters, but what if he had purposely left out details so Steve wouldn’t worry? Or, what if he was mentally a different person? Going to war stays with you forever. 

The people around him erupted in cheers as the boat came into view. Steve was relieved that it had arrived, but now he felt even more nervous than before. The boat seemed to move so slowly. It almost seemed as if the boat was doing it on purpose, just to taunt Steve. 

As the boat inched closer, Steve felt the sweat forming on his skin. The women next to him were clearly waiting for their husbands—they wore their best dresses and pinned up their hair and put on just enough makeup to be noticeable. Steve felt oddly inadequate standing next to them. Bucky would probably notice a beautiful young woman in the crowd and walk right over to her. He’d probably forget all about Steve, and abandon him in his haste to take the woman out on a date. 

As the boat finally reached the dock, Steve realized how ridiculous that was. They’d been writing letters back and forth for months. They’d lived together for years. Bucky wouldn’t forget about him. Especially not now, now that they’ve realized their feelings for each other tip the boundaries of friendship. 

“Steve!” Bucky shouted the second he got off the boat, running straight toward Steve and enveloping him in his strong arms.

Steve had no idea how Bucky spotted him so quickly, especially since most of the woman standing at the dock were taller than him. He was glad that he had, though—he missed Bucky terribly, and even now he wasn’t sure of how he’d survived six months without him. 

“Never wanna be away from you again,” Steve, on his tiptoes, mumbled into Bucky‘s neck.

“I know. Let’s go home,” Bucky reluctantly let go of Steve, and the two slipped through the crowd and made their way back home. 

For the most part, they walked in silence. Steve was grateful that Bucky didn’t seem all too different. His body had changed a little—the army made him stronger, and his hair was a bit shorter than how he usually wore it—but his smile was the same. 

——  
Once they were back in their shared apartment, Steve realized how much they’d left unsaid. Their letters to each other were more than just friendly, and his short-lived confession to Bucky before he left still rang in his ears as if he had just said the words. 

“Bucky—“

“Can I kiss you?” 

Steve stood up straighter at the question, caught completely off guard. He blinked up at Bucky, wondering if he was still dreaming, and Bucky was actually still in England hiding in a trench while bullets rang through the air. 

“Yes,” he whispered, stepping closer to Bucky. 

They kissed each other gently, wanting to savor the moment for as long as they possibly could. Hoping the kiss expressed everything they’d been holding back for so many years. 

“Dance with me,” Bucky whispered after they broke the kiss. 

“There’s no music playing, Buck. We’ll look crazy.” 

“No one’s watching us,” Bucky retorted with a wide grin, gently maneuvering Steve’s body so they were positioned for a traditional slow dance. 

Steve nodded and allowed Bucky to guide him through the dance. He’d never slow danced with a girl before, but that didn’t matter anymore. He had Bucky, and that was all he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much for reading. I love these sweet boys.  
> 


End file.
